


Epiphany

by Kiertorata



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: rarepair_shorts, F/F, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9348566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiertorata/pseuds/Kiertorata
Summary: “If it makes you feel any better, I just had the shoddiest kiss with a boy everyone is supposed to swoon over.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nereycamille](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nereycamille).



> Written for nereycamille for the Winter Exchange 2016-2017 at rarepair_shorts! Merry Christmas!

Severus observed the Great Hall with a sneer. Christmas trees decked with sparkling glass ornaments stood by the walls. Silver ribbons and sprigs of holly adorned the walls. It was more elegant than the tacky display Albus usually came up with for Christmas – quite pleasant to look at actually – but that was something Severus wouldn’t have admitted under torture.

Severus watched the mass of colorful robes sway to the wailing of the Weird Sisters. He spotted Diggory and What’s Her Name gliding elegantly through the crowd of people. Potter and Weasley number six where slumped onto a bench looking miserable. Much to Severus’s entertainment, their dates had run off as soon as they had had the chance.

Granger danced not far from them. Severus noted that she had somehow managed to transform that rat’s nest she thought was hair into something tolerable. She looked less like a frumpy cat lady than usual, which for Granger was a pretty good achievement. She twirled around with the burly Durmstrang contestant, Merlin knew what they had in common…

Not much, apparently. Granger was barely looking at her date, and was instead watching the Beauxbatons champion with an irritated expression on her face. Severus smirked when Granger nearly tripped.

“Good evening, Severus,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling like bloody Christmas had arrived. (Wait a minute. It had. Severus groaned at the realization.)

“How are you enjoying our little holiday celebrations?” the Headmaster asked.

“Oh, perfectly fine, naturally,” Severus replied. “Tinsel, ornaments and displays of teenage happiness make me thrilled enough to puke.”

“Stop being such a killjoy, Severus, and have some fun,” McGonagall said. She had appeared next to Dumbledore after finishing her dance with Flitwick. She sipped her drink, cheeks glowing.

“Why don’t you dance, Severus?” Dumbledore said, beaming at Snape in that infuriating, grandfatherly way. “Look, there’s Sibyll all alone by the punch bowl. I’m sure she would love to dance with you.”

“Suggest that again and you will find yourself without a Potion’s professor in your faculty,” Snape snarled and glowered at both the Headmaster and McGonagall.

Sibyll Trelawney was indeed positioned next to the punch bowl, and was filling her glass with slow, dramatic movement. She brought the cup to the level of her eye and examined the contents as if trying to decipher its hidden message. She took a tentative sip, after which she peeked into the glass.

Severus didn’t know much about Divination, but he hoped that the punch glass said “you are pitiful and will die alone”.

 

Hermione tried to focus on the dance, but her mind was elsewhere. Every time Fleur Delacour swished by all glittering and silver, something seemed to happen to her feet which made it difficult to remember what she was doing.

Krum followed her glance.

“Fleur Delacour is looking very nice,” he said. “Not as beautiful as you, I think.”

“I don’t see anything special about her,” Hermione huffed, still not looking away. “She may be smart, brave and devastatingly gorgeous, but that’s no reason for her to be vain and annoying.”

Just that moment her eyes locked with Fleur’s for the briefest moment. A flash of something – not quite a smile – passed on Fleur’s face. Hermione blushed and almost stumbled.

She quickly looked away, angry at herself for some unknown reason. She wrapped her arms tighter around Krum’s neck and resolutely surrendered to the dancing.

“Vould you like to take a break?” Krum said. “I vill go get drinks.”

“Please,” Hermione said, relieved.

 

Severus roamed the halls barking at random students who happened to cross his path. He was starting to feel much better about the evening having gotten rid of Karkaroff, who had made him endure a session of complaints about his bad life decisions.

“Ten points from Gryffindor,” he said to a blonde, mousy-looking girl, “for being insufferable.”

The student looked like she wanted to protest, but decided better. She glared at Snape and slumped off.

Severus continued his stroll in a good mood. He was really starting to get into the Christmas spirit.

He turned around a corner. There was Granger again, complaining to her date, the famously gorgeous Quidditch phenomenon about the other famously gorgeous competitor. (And no, Severus did not mean Cedric Diggory, although Diggory had some of that British schoolboy appeal if you happened to like them sparkly and Hufflepuff.) Really, could Granger really be any more obvious about her obsession with the French girl?

Oh no, the Bulgarian hunk was placing their drinks on the nearby windowsill, which could only be the interlude to some revolting teenage pawing. Severus, determined not to expose himself to such indecency, navigated back towards the Great Hall and the punch bowl. There was no way he was going to endure the rest of the night sober.

 

“Herm-own-ninny,” Krum said, suddenly quite serious.

He took Hermione’s hand and stared her in the eye, dark eyes ablaze.

“Viktor,” Hermione said back, somewhat baffled by the intense gaze.

Then Krum leaned in closer, and before she could react in any way, Hermione found herself pressed against the cold stone wall, kissed by Viktor Krum.

If you could call it a kiss. It was sloppy and awkward and felt more like something wet slipping against her face than what she imagined kissing to be like based on romance novels.

She squirmed against the wall and finally managed to push the Bulgarian off her.

“Well, um, thank you,” she said, gasping for breath. “That was— Well, anyway, I need to go find Ron and Harry now. I’ll catch up with you later.”

She spun around and rushed off before Krum had time to respond.

 

Severus saw Trelawney approach him with a purposeful gleam in her wide, bug-like eyes. So, Albus had apparently played match-maker or Trelawney’s punch glass had held a message of a dark, brooding man in the near future. In either case, Severus was not interested.

He grabbed his glass of punch and quickly located to the other side of the hall.

“Good evening, Professor Snape.”

Severus turned around to see Percy Weasley, undoubtedly the most obnoxious out of all the Weasleys he had encountered in his life.

“Good to see you, Sir,” Weasley said. “How have you been enjoying the Ball?”

Before Severus had time to respond, Weasley went off about his promotion, the Ministry and Mr. Crouch.

"I'm here representing Mr. Crouch as his personal assistant, as you may have already heard. I was promoted, you see," he said, gesturing importantly with his hands. "I'm sure it must be nice for a teacher to see that his old pupil has made it so far in life…”

Severus sneered in a conversational manner, and looked across the Hall. Stationed by the punch bowl, Trelawney eyed him in a disappointed manner. He turned back to Weasley with a bit more enthusiasm than before. 

“…I find this to be an excellent opportunity to network…”

Severus sipped his drink. The biting taste of liquor hit his tongue. Thank Salazar for twin Weasleys and their rule-breaking tendencies.

 

Hermione roamed the halls. She had thought of finding Harry and Ron, but after Ron had erupted at her earlier, it didn’t seem like a very compelling option. The thought of returning to the Great Hall felt unpleasant to her, and so she found herself somewhere on the second floor, wandering aimlessly.

She stopped when she saw someone at the window.

It was Fleur Delacour.

The girl looked almost ghostlike in the pale moonlight. There was something melancholic about her, and  
Hermione was almost sure she saw tears glistening in her eyes.

Fleur turned to look at her sharply. 

“What eez it?” she asked, eyes narrowed. Whatever softness Hermione had seen was gone and replaced with chilliness.

“Is something wrong?” Hermione said, not knowing what compelled her to speak. It wasn’t as if she was interested in anything the girl would say, she told herself.

“Oh, nothing,” Fleur said and looked away again. “Everyzing eez perfectly fine.”

Hermione didn’t know whether she was still dazed from the awful kiss with Viktor or if the punch had been truly spiked by the twins, but she found herself unable to move. She remained standing a short distance away from Fleur.

Fleur erupted into a rant.

“Zat boy – Davies – he eez just like all ze others,” Fleur said, eyes flashing anger. “He eez obsessed wiz my veela powers, and does not see beyond zat.”

“But…you like the attention, don’t you?”

Fleur glared at her.

“You zink I am just being vain?” Fleur said. "I zought you were supposed to be understanding about ozer creatures, wiz your club for the promotion of house elf rights—”

"You know about S.P.E.W.?" Hermione blurted.

“Of course. I am also an advocate for ze rights of house elves along wiz ozer creatures.”

“Oh,” Hermione said stupidly.

“Well, I _am_ part-veela,” Fleur said. “And like house elves, ze veela are misunderstood. A lot of people zink we are cruel and vain. But zey do not realize ‘ow ‘ard it is to form any kinds of relationships when most wizards are dazzled by our presence.”

Hermione felt her stomach lurch uncomfortably. She had been guilty of this. 

“It eez nice getting attention, I zink,” Fleur said. “But not for something I ‘ave not chosen to accomplish.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said.

Fleur clutched the windowsill, knuckles white. Looking vulnerable again, she spoke.

“Everyone eez disappointed at ‘ow I performed in ze first task. I am an embarrassment to Beauxbatons and to Madam Maxime,” Fleur said. “I am sick of being at zis ‘orrible school. I am sick of Eenglish food and ze rain and ze ugly castle!”

Hermione stared at her in astonishment. “You didn’t do badly in the task, everyone else just—”

“—did better,” Fleur said. “I need to try ‘arder. And I will. I won’t give up. Even if I complain about ‘ogwarts, I am going to do my best in the next challenge.”

“Is there really nothing you like about being here?”

“Well, ze grounds are razer beautiful,” Fleur admitted. "When it eez not raining," she added.

Hermione laughed. To her surprise, Fleur let out a little laugh as well.

“I suppose I needed to vent,” she said.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I just had the shoddiest kiss with a boy everyone is supposed to swoon over.”

“Viktor?” Fleur said, lifting one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “’e was your first kiss?”

Hermione blushed and nodded.

“That makes two of who have been disappointed by love tonight,” Fleur said.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to talk about love,” Hermione said, and laughed nervously.

Somehow, they had come to stand so close to each other that their arms were touching. Hermione hadn’t noticed it before, but she suddenly became aware of how hard her heart was beating. She noticed Fleur glance at her lips and then back at her eyes.

“Mistletoe,” Fleur murmured.

Hermione looked up and couldn’t spot a mistletoe anywhere, but before she had time to say so, Fleur’s lips were on hers, pressing a soft kiss to them.

When they pulled apart, Fleur smiled playfully.

“Just keeding,” she said.

“What—”

“I ‘ope that was a better second kiss, ‘ermione,” Fleur said. “Zank you for listening to me rant. Good night.”

 

Hermione passed through the Great Hall on the way to the Gryffindor Tower. There was only a handful of students left. The Weird Sisters were playing their last, wailing tune, and a lonesome pair of students slow danced. Ron and Harry had already left.

Percy Weasley’s voice rang from where the teachers’ table usually stood. He sat at the judges’ table, engaged in what seemed to be a very one-sided conversation with a tired Professor Snape.

“I’m also very interested in Magical Law Enforcement, but I may just stick with International Cooperation,” he said. “Mr. Crouch has been very pleased with my work. He says I have potential—”

“All praise Weasleys,” Snape said. He lifted his glass and sneered.

“Excuse me?” Percy said.

“Not you. Not annoying Weasleys with a wand up their arse. Twin Weasleys. Weasley twins. Weasleys who pour firewhisky into punches,” Snape slurred.

“What?”

“Nevermind.”

Snape poured himself another glass and took a large gulp. Hermione tried to conceal her grin, but she must have not done a very good job at it.

“What are you looking at?” Snape said as she passed them. “Five points from Gryffindor.”

 

Hermione climbed the stairs to the Tower feeling strangely un-disappointed at the whole Ball. Fleur’s kiss still lingered on her lips.

While her mind was unaware, her body had had an epiphany. It would be years of misunderstood emotions and a few catastrophic dates with Ron until her mind would catch up with the truth, but she would eventually figure it all out.


End file.
